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I cut the call.
He calls again, then texts.
Father #2: Sweetheart, let’s talk.
Me: I don’t want to talk to you. Leave Jace and me alone.
Father #2: It’s for your own good, sweetie. You don’t know what that man is.
Me: I do. He told me. As of today, I also know what YOU do. Maybe there was a reason my mom never told me about you. You don’t get to come into my life and take charge. Thanks for making my exhibition opening unforgettable.
Father #2: Let’s talk, Lucy. I’ll explain. Please.
I’ve had enough explanations.
“Lu?” Jace cocks his head, studying me.
“Let’s go, Jace.”
Becky nods, and Roey motions to her. “Let’s get to work, beautiful.”
Jace and I get a cab, and as we ride, he intertwines his fingers with mine.
“I’m sorry, Jace. For everything,” I murmur.
“Lu, don’t apologize.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“He is a father,” Jace argues and squeezes my hand in his tighter. “As to the exhibition, don’t get upset. It’s only the first day. Your art is great. It’ll get noticed, believe me.”
I turn to study his face, lit up by the flickers of the passing cars.
“Where do you get all this optimism, Jace?”
There’s this kind smile on his face like everything is a blessing.
“Because I have you,” he says. “What’s there to complain about?”
“You got hurt because of that.”
“You know, even if they crippled me, I wouldn’t give up on you.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Not a chance. The question is, do you want a crippled roommate?”
“He won’t touch you. I won’t let him.”
“Lu baby, look at me, please.” He takes my chin between his fingers. “I’m not going back to California. That is, if you are willing to deal with me.”
“Two hundred percent,” I whisper.
“That’s a lot.”
“A hundred percent from me and a hundred from Pushkin.”
He laughs softly. “I’m all for being a Brooklynite.”
